


Stabby

by taylor_tut



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt Richie Tozier, Injury, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 16:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21449584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A fic written for a request on my tumblr: "just a prompt i've been thinking about in case you're interested (idk if this is the sort of whump you like) but how about instead of going after Eddie, Bowers goes after Richie? i would love to see the rest of the losers club getting really protective over Richie!!"
Comments: 1
Kudos: 171





	Stabby

Richie had only just talked himself out of leaving Derry for good and not ever looking back when Henry fucking Bowers came out of seemingly nowhere with a knife and a murderous look in his eyes. 

It was jarring, remembering again. Particularly when that nagging sense of “God, I know you, but from where?” was accompanied swiftly by the thought, “oh shit, that’s a knife,” and then by the feeling of being cut several times across the arm and chest with said knife. He was impressed with himself, distantly, for his ability to begin fighting back so quickly from a surprise attack. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because just as he remembered from his childhood, Henry was much stronger than Richie was, than any of the Losers were, individually, and he fought Richie’s blows off as if they were nothing. 

Before Richie could process what was happening, he felt the searing pain of a knife plunging into his cheek. He could taste the metal, and though he didn’t feel it in the moment, he distantly registered that he was lucky that his mouth was open, or it might have knocked out teeth. Instead, it went through his cheek and lacerated his tongue quite severely. His mouth immediately filled up with blood and he couldn’t tell if he was screaming or not over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. 

His vision went dark from the pain but he fought it down and did the only brave thing that he could think of. 

Adrenaline was a hell of a drug and he faltered for only a moment, dreading what he knew he had to do, and then he slowly, agonizingly pulled the blade out of his mouth

However, he celebrated the win too early, because while he tried to catch his breath and think about what to do next, Henry decided that actually, a knife in his heart wasn’t so bad after all and stood up for a second round, then went straight out the window. 

Richie wanted to chase him, knowing that whoever was outside might be in serious danger and that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if one of the other Losers got hurt because he hadn’t warned them about Bowers, but fuck, his face hurt. His body hurt. Everything was beginning to look a little fuzzy around the edges, so rather than trying to beat Henry to the parking lot, he decided that it would be a better idea to go get someone else to do it. 

Apparently, he had screamed when he’d been stabbed, or at least the commotion in the bathroom had been enough to alert the others, because as soon as he opened the door, he fell into Ben’s waiting arms. 

“Holy shit, Richie,” Ben cursed, easing him to the ground. Beverly and Eddie were there, too, crouching beside him as he sat heavily on the floor. “What the hell happened?” 

“Bowers,” he managed frantically, trying to fight against Ben’s hands to stand up. He had to tell them. Fuck the pain, Bowers could KILL someone and it would be his fault for not finishing the job. “Downstairs. Outside. He got in, then—he got out—Mike and Bill—”

“I’ll text them and let them know to look out,” Bev reassured. 

“Yeah, just take it easy,” Ben said. “They’re going to be fine. You need to stop squirming so I can get a better look at you.”

“Let me do it,” Eddie volunteered, which made Richie’s heart beat in his throat. Ben moved dutifully aside. 

“Have at it, Dr. K.”

He rolled his eyes and moved to kneel directly in front of Richie, so close that Eddie’s nose turned up slightly at the scent of blood. 

“God, he really went at you,” he muttered. “Did he—Jesus, did he stab you in the face?”

Richie nodded. 

“And you took it out?” he demanded. “Has no one ever told you not to remove objects from your own stupid body? Do you want to bleed out?”

Richie glared. “I didn’t have anything else to fight with,” he defended. “Had to stab him with something.”

At that, Eddie froze, his hands mere millimeters from Richie’s face, tantalizing and terrifying. “You stabbed him with a knife you took out of your own cheek?” Richie nodded. “That’s pretty badass, man.”

“Thanks. Felt good,” Richie winced as the proud smile aggravated the wound. “Would’ve felt better if he’d stayed the fuck down.”

Eddie hummed in agreement. “We should get you cleaned up. You might need some stitches. Plus, this,” he gestured to Richie’s cheek, “is gonna get infected from your filthy trashmouth, so we should try to bandage it as best we can.”

Richie nodded and let his head fall onto Ben’s shoulders as Eddie got up to take care of him, something he’d wanted for so long but was bittersweet now that it was happening. Eddie loved him as much as he loved Eddie, he could feel it. It just wasn’t the same kind. 

“Sit tight,” Ben reassured. “We’ve got you.”

Richie closed his eyes and tried to accept that if only for a moment. 


End file.
